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“Light in the darkness.... Christ in our midst.” Since June, I have been driving into Oakland early on Tuesday mornings to join a group of Protestant ministers, Catholic priests, and Catholic laity, fourteen of us when we all show up, to look over and discuss the scripture texts for the coming weekend. This last Tuesday, we spent almost all of the time talking about darkness, darkness on all sides, darkness everywhere, darkness unrelenting, the darkness of war and terrorism. We quoted one U. S. general who recently said, “We are creating terrorists faster than we can kill them.” The darkness of starvation from the Sudan to the Tenderloin in San Francisco. The darkness of violence, from Fallujah in Iraq to Richmond in California.

What triggered all this discussion of darkness was the text of Isaiah which is engraved in stone, outside the United Nations headquarters in New York City, and which was in the reading that we just listened to together. With all the darkness in our world, with all the violence, that reading sounds almost incredible. “They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into hooks for pruning trees. One nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war ever again.” The African-American spiritual is based on that line: “ain’t gonna study war no more.... ain’t gonna study war no more.... ain’t gonna study war no more.” Given the darkness and violence in our world today, that passage sounds almost ridiculous, almost ludicrous, almost laughable. But that’s the point. Isn’t it?

The light of the prophets, the light of Christ, and the light of our God doesn’t come into an already fully-lighted room. It doesn’t show up in a warm, well-lit place, called “Planet Earth.” But rather, the prophets and Jesus and God bring light into darkness where the darkness is often so common and so familiar and so accepted that we don’t even recognize it as being darkness.

Father Richard Rohr spoke here ten days ago on “The World, The Flesh, and The Devil,” and he reminded us that the role of the prophet is to critique our culture and to critique our system and to critique the containers in which we live and don’t even notice. So, when we get readings at Mass from the prophets, like Isaiah today, or Jeremiah, or Amos, it is usually a direct assault, a direct insult, and a direct affront to everything that we treasure and take for granted; and he says, it’s amazing how good little Catholics sit and listen to readings that are stunning and offensive (and are supposed to be), and we say, “Thanks be to God.” .... Ridiculous! Ridiculous!

This is the way it should work. When we hear from these prophets and we actually hear what they are saying, which, remember, is a driving insult at where we live and how we don’t notice, what should happen is the reader says, “The Word of the Lord.” And we say, “You’ve got to be kidding.” And, then, only after we realize the darkness and only after we recognize a glimmer of hope that God has a different way of looking at things, only after we get the message, the message that, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s dark in our world, the message that, in case you didn’t know, God has a different view for our world, the message that, in case you have forgotten, God has a different plan, then and only then do we say, “Thanks be to God..... Thanks be to God.”

The gospel reading may have puzzled you. Frankly, it left me puzzled. I mean this passage, “Two men will be out in the field. One will be taken. One will be left. Two women will be grinding at the mill. One will be taken, and one will be left. Frankly, I am not entirely sure exactly what that refers to and exactly what that means. First of all, I know that it surely doesn’t mean “the Rapture.” I am sure by now that you have all heard about the Rapture. That Fundamentalist fantasy, the Rapture, that very recently invented interpretation of Scripture, the Rapture, that marvelous marketing success for a whole series of best-selling books, called the “Left-behind Series.” (As a matter of fact, it is reported that that is the most popular reading by our troops today in Iraq.) The Rapture wrongly reads scripture to say that, when things are really at their worst, Christ will secretly sneak back and snatch away only a few of the just, leaving behind their empty houses, their empty cars, their empty dresses, their empty pants, and leaving the rest of us puzzled and bewildered. It certainly does not mean that!

Secondly, it does mean “Get ready!” because, at a time when we least expect and at a place we least expect, our God will come for both judgment and salvation, for both judgment and healing, for both judgment and hope. It also does mean that our God comes like a thief in the night. Isn’t that something? We think of our God as a Good Shepherd. We think of our God as a gentle Jesus. We think of our God as the mother hen, gathering her chicks. We think of God as the Way, the Truth and the Light. And this passage of the Bible says God is “like a thief in the night” because God will come unannounced to circumvent our defenses, our elaborate security system, to evade it, and to steal our hearts.

And finally, it also means that each of us is well-represented by both of the two men in the field and both the two women grinding at the mill. For all of us, there is both a dark side and a side that walks in the light. And for most of us most of the time, it is a toss-up. Our dark side settles for business-as-usual and says, “I’m just fine the way I am.” Our dark side says there is no reason for examination of conscience or self-exam or any searching necessary. Our dark side says there is nothing more to learn, nothing more to change. And the other side says, “You know, I need to move. I need to learn more. I need to move over and walk in the light.” We have both sides.

Father Rohr, when he was speaking, told us that Father Karl Rahner, who is probably known as perhaps the best Catholic theologian in the twentieth century, when he was close to death, said that he had learned that there are really only two types of people in the world. There were people who wanted certitude and there were people who wanted understanding. The people who want certitude feel that there is a place for everything and everything in its place, that I’ve got it all pretty much figured out or, if I don’t, the answer to any of my questions is going to be either black or white. And then there are people who want understanding, and they are never at peace. They are always searching, always seeking, always questioning, always re-examining. What Father Rahner said was that these two types of people never can listen to each other or understand each other or accept one another.

Well, my experience is a little different from that. My own experience is that we are all a mix of both types, every one of us. And we need to be both lovers of the truth and seekers of wisdom. We need to be people who are willing to recognize the darkness and also long for the light. I would say, during Advent, as a parish community and as individuals, our prayer should be, that whatever the challenge is for us or how much change and difference it forces us to make, let’s be a people who long for the light. Let’s be a people who walk in the light. Let’s let Christ be our Light. Amen.